


Surrender

by ZannLooper



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Badass Rey, Begging, Bottom Kylo Ren, Choking, F/M, Hand Jobs, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Lightsabers, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Praise Kink, Rey Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 03:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16526615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZannLooper/pseuds/ZannLooper
Summary: Kylo finds Rey six months after Crait. Sabers and sex ensue.





	Surrender

By the time Rey strides off the Falcon and onto the forest world’s surface, it is twilight. The sky is showy, one great sun setting and two moons rising, the rings of one lending a purple tinge to wisps of cloud. She sucks in a deep breath through her nose, drinking in the quiet, cool air. All is still in the clearing, and the forest edge looms close. The Force running through her is as tangible as an unspoiled mountain stream. Her fingertips tingle with possibility. She straightens her charcoal robes and arm wraps. She gathers her cobbled-together, Resistance-issue survey equipment. She smiles. This bastion of boreal forest may or may not be suited for a paramilitary base. Regardless, she can tell this world will be a good one.

Rey has seen many strange skies over the past month. The Resistance leadership was not eager to send The Last Jedi on a scouting mission so far from the public eye. The robes, the somewhat hastily constructed yellow-bladed saber, her highly visible sparring sessions- the suggestion that a remnant of the old order was aiding the rebellion was her most valuable contribution. But Leia knew better than anyone how little Rey had been sleeping, how often she watched her back looking for ghosts. She made up a solemn explanation of the importance of solitude and meditation for the development of young Jedi, and the leadership backed down. Rey could’ve sworn she saw Leia wink in her direction.

It was at that moment that she most regretted not telling her about Ben.

Rey stops this train of thought the same way she has for the past 6 months: hugging her chest, eyes shut, breathe in for three beats and out for four. She grounds herself by following tendrils of the Force to the roots of plants, subterranean insects, slumbering rodents. The tension that had sprung to life in her body abates. She reminds herself of the basic facts: Kylo Ren is the figurehead of an aggressively militaristic, oppressive regime. She is the closest thing to a Jedi left in the galaxy. And when the time comes, and their blades clash again, she will kill him.

She gives one more long exhale and opens her eyes. She is a speck of calm under the tall trees, alone and on a mission. She was once a desert urchin scrounging through forgotten wreckage to survive. Now she has seen mountains, oceans, and great cities. Now she is told that she is important, and that people are counting on her. The lonely ache that never quite leaves is immaterial.

Rey returns her attention to her equipment. The scanning data she gathered during her descent suggest a system of caverns a few klicks deeper into the woods. The hope is that the mineral composition and structural stability of the system will be favorable. Rey has already identified several favorable sites. But no one has tried to make her come back yet; receipt of her new data packages is acknowledged with the same brusque courtesy as always. So she continues to go through the process, screening systems, surveying sites. The monotony and solitude are familiar. 

She moves between the trees at a leisurely pace, taking in the pale purple light filtering through the crowns, scanning the understory for movement. The abundance of life on most worlds never ceases to impress her. Between the sights, sounds, smells, and the ever present current of the Force, she is overwhelmed. Feeling the swell of the Force beneath her feet, she gives in to the impulse to leap up to one of the highest branches. Catching her footing, smelling deeply of the bark, buffeted by the wind, she laughs. Spelunking in Star Destroyers would have been much easier with that trick. Lately, it feels like there isn’t much she can’t do. Now that she is open to the Force, tapping into it requires barely a thought, a breath of intent. Sometimes she can feel that she is using someone else’s knowledge, recalling someone else’s lessons. When she spars with her saber, she throws her weight forward, pressing into her opponent with strides a tad too long for her slight frame, slashing with a backhanded grip. The Jedi texts, while impressively ancient, sit unopened in her cabin. She finds that she already knows much more than she has a right to. 

She presses her forehead against the trunk as unwelcome memories intrude. Half memories glimpsed that day on the weapon planet, the shadows of dreams that haunt her every night. The Force is damned persistent, and it seems she can’t shut him out completely. She retreats into her breathing, but she still knows the feeling of that crackling, unwieldy saber in his hands, the ease with which he can toss aside a living body, sneak into a waking mind. Older things too: the fierce joy of running with the Force under his feet, far away from concerned eyes. The careful assembly of a green-bladed saber long buried. The late nights reaching, reaching, reaching for his mother a galaxy away. She has never known another person this well. She did not ask for this.

She bites her lip until it bleeds. She reminds herself of the most basic fact: she will kill him.

Rey descends from branch to branch boldly, ready to catch herself in the air if need be. She has had plenty of practice by now, never missing the opportunity to climb a tree. She continues on her way.

There is a slight tug in the Force, no more than a soft hand on a shoulder. As so often happens during her travels, she briefly glimpses a place, and knows that it is important. It is a meadow, not far away but in quite the opposite direction. She has learned to trust the visions when they come. They nudge her toward what she needs: shelter, water, relief from painful thoughts. She pivots.

She adjusts her cloak as a chill breeze rattles through the trees. The muted gray was the one concession she was granted in her assigned wardrobe. Rey was done with sandy hues, no matter how very much she would resemble holos of long dead Jedi masters wearing them. She had told herself she would dispense with the tunic and cloak combo the minute she was off base, but she finds herself strangely attached to the forgiving fit of the thick fabric. Sometimes when she examines herself the ensemble almost looks right: iron robes over ivory tunic, hair tightly bound and out of the way, a scrounged-together saber that is very much hers. She is proud to have her ship and her weapon, to be able to make her way just about anywhere. She had never thought that any of this could be hers.

The purple tinge to the sky intensifies as the sun hovers low on the horizon. Rey may well sleep in the woods tonight, though two moons may be enough to light her way back. The tug is becoming more insistent, the trees beginning to thin. The meadow opens before her, a dark, narrow stream cutting through the thick grass. Phosphorescent insects flicker over the water. The wind whistles through the trees above, but otherwise all is quiet and still.

Including him. Kylo Ren is standing not fifty feet away. Obviously waiting for her. She knows him before her brain fully registers that he is here. Her blade is already lit. 

She lets loose her end of the bond, tightly shut for six months, so abruptly it makes him reel back in shock. She leaps. She feels the mad rush of his fear. Still, his spitting blade meets hers as she lands before him. Rey grits her teeth and hammers at his defense, pushing him back. She vaguely recalls a platitude about anger being a bad thing for Jedi to feel, much less act on. Much more vividly, she remembers all the sleep his suffering has stolen from her, the constant need to keep him out, his constant attempts to break in. She rains blows at him from all sides, singes his dark mane, longer even than her last memory of him. He is panting, mind spinning at the onslaught of her rage. Already he is sweating, and in the dual moonlight the scar she gave him shines. 

“Rey,” he gasps, “Rey, please, wait!”

With a cry she drives forward and strikes, her blade cracking against his. The gall, the absolute gall of him to say her name, to plead like he pleaded before. She never asked to know him like she knows herself. To witness his memories and share his dreams and be completely unable to forget him. And here he is, prepared to either kill or kidnap her. It is all entirely unfair. And she will be rid of it.

He makes no effort to stop her advance, not that she gives him any quarter to do so. She worries at him but he moves with Force-gifted quickness to block her every heaving, two-handed thrust. She shrugs sharply and her cloak falls away as she pushes forward. Rey knows she’s spending her strength too quickly and she just does not care. The faster this ends the better. And damn him, he’s bombarding the bond with “Wait, please, wait, please, please, Rey!” The memory rises unbidden, his bare hand extended, the desperation in his voice. All the nights she has imagined taking his hand and worked at her cunt to ease the ache, the shame afterward. She pauses her assault, blinks, and he almost looks like Ben, clad in a simple black tunic and pants, face and mind open and terrified. 

Then she feels him through the Force, reaching for her wrists and ankles, trying to hold her back. He hasn’t fought her in some time now, and her power has grown. With a snarl, she hurls the same energy right back at him. He flies into the nearest tree and is held there. She calls his saber to her hand before he can gain his wits, and flies to point her own at his chest. And hesitates.

He finds his tongue, “I surrender!”

She shakes her head in confusion, nostrils flaring, blade thrumming steadily over his heart. “What?” she snaps.

Kylo is shaking, but manages to swallow thickly. “I came here to surrender myself to you.”

Rey does not like how her breath catches to her him speak again. Damn his voice. Damn his hair.

She collects herself the slightest bit. “How did you find me and who is here with you.”

He catches his breath and shuts his eyes, seemingly resigned. “Our connection…it’s like following a string in the dark. I could have found you any time but I didn’t, I knew you didn’t…want me. I’m here alone. To surrender.”

Her anger is mixing strangely with a traitorous hope. His mind is wide open and she doesn’t even have to reach to see his sincerity. Under the violet light of the twin moons, his face looks drawn. The shadows under his eyes look about as deep as hers. 

“Surrender. What in the hells is that supposed to mean,” she bites out. Her body is a spring tightly coiled, with what sort of feeling she is no longer sure.

He is rigid in her Force grasp. “I give myself to you. Kill me, take me prisoner. It doesn’t matter.”

She is breathing hard, no longer from the exertion of trying to kill him. She has nothing to say to this.

He continues into her silence, eyes still tightly shut, “I couldn’t go on like I was. Something had to change. I had to see you. No matter…how it turned out.”

She was so sure she had decided to kill him. But instead she asks, very quietly, “Why me?”

But she knows why.

He opens his eyes and he’s giving her that look she can’t stop remembering. Heated. Reverent. Damn his eyes. Damn his lips.

“You know why.” 

Her blade flickers off. Her saber arm falls. She releases her hold on him, but he scarcely moves an inch.

Rey can’t stop looking at him, and she can’t speak. Despite the flashes of memory and dream, she has not properly seen him in six months. The thick layers of black fabric are gone. The neck of his tunic dips, revealing where his scar winds over his clavicle. His throat is bare to her. He is here, alone, defenseless…giving himself to her. And she has no idea what to do with him. 

She drops her weapon and his to the ground, cocks her head, walks closer to him. The man is somehow more massive than she remembered. How many times has she conjured him in her weaker moments, wondering what it would be like to touch him again. How many times has she re-lived him saving her, fighting by her side, telling her she matters to him. And how many times has she re-watched the moment he turned his back on her.

Her blood runs cold. She grips his windpipe in her hand and he yelps. Carefully, she presses her thumb into the prominence of his voice box. Her other hand winds into his hair, sinfully soft. Kylo groans deep in his throat, the pitch rising to a whine as she increases the pressure at his throat. There is a touch of pain to it, but she feels something much more desperate radiating from him. 

Rey fights to keep her voice steady. “It didn’t go very well for me. The last time I trusted you.”

He only whines again. Just as in the most damning of her dreams, she feels her very justified anger morphing into a desire to touch him, to possess him. She hates how much she still wants him to be hers. 

“I have been trying extremely hard to give up on you. But I can’t go on like this either.”

His eyes fly open as she releases his throat. She can’t quite make herself let go of his hair. She traces the scar on his cheek with the pads of her fingers. The touch is light, but he cries out like he’s been burned, tensing under her hand and leaning into it at the same time. She sees his thought as easily as if it was her own: no one has touched him in a very long time, and it’s too much. She doesn’t stop. She traces her mark on him all the way down his shoulder, dipping under his tunic. 

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, and she doesn’t know if he’s begging for more or for less. His mind appears undecided. She traces the dramatic lines of his jaw, his nose, his neck. His chest is heaving and she thinks he’s sobbing. “Please!” he chokes out, near panicked from overstimulation. Rey slowly lowers her arms to her sides and takes a single step back. She waits. He is flushed and shaking, and she suspects she is too. She is barely aware that the night sky is filled with streaking meteors. 

She is grasping for some idea of what she should do next when he drops to his knees before her. Nothing has ever looked more right. No one has ever looked at her like he is now.

Unbidden, he speaks. His gaze does not waver.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Not since you beat me, marked me, left me in the snow. All the time I wonder: what are you doing, how are you feeling? Everything makes me think of you.” 

Rey has never felt more still in her life. She twists the fabric of her robes with both hands. Things like this just don’t happen to her. 

Picking up on her response, he seems emboldened. “I’ve never…wanted…anyone before. Not like that.” Incredibly, his flush deepens even further. “But all I can think about is touching you, smelling you. Making you smile, or laugh. I’ve never seen you smile, outside of a memory.”

Kylo pauses, seeming to gather courage. “My scar…I wouldn’t let the med-droids heal it. When I touch it, I see your face…from in the forest, when you cut me down. It makes me so hard I can’t think.”

He swallows but doesn’t look away. The image shoots heat straight to her cunt, and she wonders dimly if he can see into her mind, if he knows. He draws in a sharp breath and groans, something straining at the fabric of his pants. She is very much a novice at this, but she has been on the holo-net enough to know what that means.

Okay then.

Her hunger for him sharpens to a point. The moment becomes very fragile. Slowly, she begins to circle him, her boots quiet on the trampled grass. She reaches out to run her short nails across his scarred cheek. He flinches, sobs once, but senses that she needs him to keep talking.

“I thought I knew what I wanted, and I tried to offer it to you. I was wrong. I ruined this, like I ruin everything.” She takes in his broad heaving chest, huge hands clenched into fists at his sides. This is a lot of man to have at her mercy. She runs her hand through his hair, softly at first, before gently tugging it back. She is captivated by the naked bounding of his pulse in his neck. Rey has seen the depths of his self-loathing before; gazing into it again, the last of her anger evaporates. 

She moves to cradle his jaw in both of her hands, lifting his head to stare him down in his vulnerability. She still can’t find it in herself to speak but, being a woman of action, begins to draw delicate circles on his skin with her thumbs. She has never touched another being this much in her entire life and it is getting her high. She would never have known how to ask anyone for this, but, blessedly, he is freely offering. Galaxy be damned, his eyes are shimmering with the beginnings of tears, and it is everything to know that she is his last hope.

“I’ve never been the kind of person anyone wants. I’m not sure what that feels like. But I can’t stop wondering how to be someone…that you would want.” He draws a shuddering breath as her hands wander over his cheekbones, his ears. “That’s how I realized I had to leave. To be who I was before, or maybe who I was supposed to be, or…I don’t know.”

“All I know is that I’m yours.”

Rey’s breath catches, and suddenly, violently, she is crying, face in her hands and shoulders bowed. He is on his feet but afraid to reach for her. The stars are out and none of this fits into her current understanding of the universe. She manages to pull her hands away to meet his concerned intensity. Her mouth opens, but it takes her a moment to form the words, and when they come out they are small and broken.

“In all my life, no one has ever been mine.”

In a rush of heat, Kylo’s hands are caressing her face, his forehead is pressed firmly against hers. She feels the burning hope that is taking the breath out of him. They are enveloped in a thundering quiet, only the tiniest whisper from the nearby stream. Rey feels the old wound thinking about mending, and the relief is so immense she leans into him to stay grounded. 

A fixture of her life on the temporary Resistance base was regular lectures from well-meaning friends about opening up and accepting help. She wonders if maybe she’s getting better.

Kylo’s thoughts are practically her own, the Force bond blown wide open such that the power flowing through her becomes a torrent. She knows that he wants to kiss her. She sees every old insecurity, the ever-present fear of failure that holds him those few inches away from her. She sweeps his raven hair aside and claims his mouth fiercely. He cries out into her lips and she drinks it in, darting her tongue out to taste. He is plush and trembling and open for her. There is so much of him, and she is nuzzling and nipping at his mouth in earnest, trying to possess every millimeter. She pushes the tip of her tongue between his lips, then winds her fingers into his hair until he presses into her mouth in turn.  
It’s entirely too much, and she pulls back, but only far enough to wrench his tunic over his head. Her mouth is on his body almost immediately, lapping at his collarbone, the meat of his sizable shoulders. She is drunk on his body heat, the sound of his breathing, the delicious closeness of him. The taste of him is salty and sweet. Over and over, he whines her name like a prayer, hands tight on her narrow back. She works over him blindly, from throat to chest to taut, clenching belly. When she grazes his waistband, she feels his panic spike and he practically jumps away from her. 

Looking him over at this distance, Rey tries to find it in herself to be patient. She has survived by taking what she can and holding on for dear life. But he is human, and breakable, and he is struggling with this. The fit of his pants does little to hide his erection, jutting boldly out from the narrow cradle of his hips. Seeing the physical manifestation of his desire stokes the throbbing between her legs, but he is fumbling with his hands and won’t meet her eyes. 

“I don’t deserve this.” Terror makes his voice shake, his locks shadow his face. Like her, he can’t quite believe tonight could happen to him. 

Rey steps into his space but does not reach for him. She stares up at him and states, evenly, “I’ve seen you at your worst. And I do not care what you think you deserve.”

Her hands start at his shoulders. He watches her brokenly as they trail over the hard expanse of his torso, coming to rest over his jutting hip bones. She hooks her fingers in his waistband and then is still. She leans in close, running her lips over his ear. “You’re mine. I want to feel all of you.” He tenses and can’t seem to make a sound. Handling him like some flighty wild thing, she makes soothing circles on his hips and hums against his skin. Wielding this power over him, for him, is intoxicating and she’s not sure how she’s going to ever stop. The needy little throb of her clit is becoming unbearable. 

“Please,” she murmurs into his neck, “please let me see your cock?” He chokes out a sob, and with shaking hands moves to help maneuver his pants over his thighs and down to his ankles, stepping out of them. His nerves are wound tight. She doesn’t look down, continuing her ministrations at his neck as one hand grazes his weeping head. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and she gasps indelicately.

“Fuck. Oh, Ben…” She can feel him scarcely believing the sound of his old name on her lips, can feel his hot cock swell in her palm. She’s holding one of his most vulnerable parts and he’s letting her and Force be damned he feels like velvet over steel. Rey has no prior experience against which to measure this, so to speak, but the man is just as impressive as she hoped he might be. 

Praises fall from her lips unbidden, “Ben, you’re so good, so huge for me.” She pumps his thick shaft very slowly, her other hand kneading his inner thigh, face buried in his shoulder. “I’ve thought about touching you like this, so many times.” Into his neck, she breathes, “I’ve never wanted anyone like this either.” Ben relaxes under her gentle care, shyly beginning to thrust into her hand. The trust in that movement fills Rey with warmth, seeping into every old, lonely corner. Dimly, she is aware of the cries of furtive night creatures slipping between the trees. But this space where they are together could never be anything but safe. 

Hearing the word in her mind, suddenly he is crying, hot tears trickling across her scalp. She still cradles his cock tenderly in one hand, brushes his hair away from his eyes with the other. She looks up at him questioningly, his thoughts too tangled for her to tease apart. 

“Safe,” he croaks. “I can’t remember the last time I felt safe.” 

Rey continues to stroke him lazily, and lets her other hand rest gently on his throat. He is so hers she can barely stand it, and she needs him to know. 

“Ben,” she whispers fiercely, “you are mine. No one is every going to hurt you again.” 

She has become a very dangerous woman. And in her mind, she makes sure he can see that she means it. If the look in his eyes isn’t love, not quite yet, it is something very close.

She wants to show him. She has never pleasured a man before, but has always prided herself on being a fast learner. She wants him wrecked and entirely under her control. She barely increases the pressure on his neck, and tightens her grip on his cock, hot, heavy, and needy in her hand. Ben doesn’t stiffen, but shuts his eyes and bares his neck for her, tear-stained cheeks flushed. 

Excitement spiking, she asks, “Do you like this?” She presses her thumb into his windpipe so the meaning is clear. He nods, whines pathetically, voice somewhat strained from the pressure.

“Yes, Rey, please…”

Assured, she grips his throat, digging in her fingers on either side. She swipes the fluid leaking from his cock-head and uses the moisture to stroke him faster. He jumps in her hand, and she can feel his pleasure ratcheting up. Rey closes her eyes against his chest, listening to the hammering of his heart, his attempts to moan through the constriction of her hand. The heat in his groin becomes her own, and she finds herself grinding against his thigh. There is a quiet release of moisture between her legs, and that knowledge has him thrusting into the tight grip of her hand. 

Lust-addled, half in love already, she babbles against his skin. “My Ben…so good for me. So hot and huge and all mine. Force, I love that you’re mine, finally mine.”

He tries to cry out as he comes, but no sound escapes. 

Rey is fascinated by the feel of his spend coating her fingers, warm from his body. Gently, she reaches up to kiss his neck as the waves run through him. He looks wretched as she releases his throat, blinking and crying and looking at her like she hung the stars. It feels like everything she’s ever wanted. She holds his softening cock with one hand and wraps her other arm around his waist, leaning on him heavily. Ben runs his hands up and down her back absently, finally whispering, “I want to make you feel like that. If…I can.” She pulls away enough that he can see her smile for the first time. She feels the brightness of it holding his fears at bay.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Rey murmurs dreamily. She uses the folds of her very official Jedi robes to mop the come out of the fine inky curls covering his groin. Then she backs away, wiping her hands on her leggings. Taking in his entire naked body for the first time, she forgets to breathe. His pale skin practically glows in the violet moonlight and the stars are shining in his dark eyes. His jaw and chest are bare and gleaming, but starting low on his abdomen there is a lace of dark hair, especially thick at the root of his cock. His balls are weighty in the loose skin that starts underneath, and the musky smell wafting from his nether regions puts her whole body pleasantly on edge. The dark mane of his hair is dripping with sweat, still curling gently around his ears. The scar she gave him covers almost the entirety of his chest. Knowing she has marked him forever sends a jolt straight to her clit. Her entire pussy feels swollen and stifled, and suddenly the removal of her clothes seems an urgent concern. 

Chased away briefly by awe, her smile returns. “Gods, Ben. You’re beautiful.” He swallows thickly, and she sees that he has never been called that in his adult life. When he quietly replies “Thank you,” she knows that, someday, he will get better. Because her heart can’t literally burst with happiness, she favors him with a small breathy laugh. When he tries to smile in return, she wants to give him everything. 

Rey unclasps her belt first, letting the grey leather slither to the ground. Ben’s smile becomes more of a real thing, one corner tugging up. 

He cocks his head. “This conduct does not befit a Jedi Knight, I think.”

She smirks and shrugs off her robes. “The outfit wasn’t my idea. The similarity ends there.” Bending to undo the buckles of her boots, she feels the need to explain. “I’ve been playing a part, The Last Jedi and all. They say it’s good for public image, recruitment. I’m not, though.” She kicks the boots off with a bit of flair. Ben is listening very seriously now. He is also eyeing the neckline of her tunic. 

“I built a saber, I train with it, I use the Force to fiddle with the fabric of the universe and all that. But I’m no Jedi.” She carefully removes her stockings, hair pins, arm wraps. “My self-control is anything but superhuman. I rely on my emotions to guide my decisions sometimes. I take no issue with…passion.” She shucks off her ivory tunic, grins as he squirms and his cock stirs. “Just about everything I’ve learned about the Force, I’ve learned from you.” She watches the admission do things to him, feels the echo of his confused pride. Rolling down her leggings, she continues, “So, when it comes down to it, powers or no powers, I’m just me.” His eyes darken as he drinks in the sight of her bare skin. She is down to a minimal chest wrap and briefs, hair still bound. 

“Just Rey,” he murmurs, voice thick as honey, worshipful.

She lets down her hair in stages, adding the cords to her bundle. When her hair falls below her shoulders, he looks lost. She is drawn to his heat, moves in so close she can feel his breath in her hair, takes his hands and places them on the band of her briefs. They look even larger on her spare frame, saber calluses rubbing against her flanks. He gently tugs off the last of her clothes as she unwinds her binding. Staring at her naked body, he is too afraid to move. 

Rey closes the distance, pressing against all of him at once. The sheer intensity of the contact knocks the wind out of her. Haltingly, his arms come around her. He lets out a breath she thinks he may have been holding for years. “I never thought someone like you could happen to me,” he whispers, nuzzling her hair. Her thighs tremble with needing him. This level of arousal is like nothing she’s felt before; not in the small hours lying awake in her cabin, or restless and hungry in the desert night. “Please touch me,” she whispers back. 

Gently, he spins her around in his arms until her back is flush with his torso. His palms encompass her shoulders easily. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, “but I want to be good for you.” And Force if that doesn’t set her cunt to clenching. He is massive and hard against her backside, regal nose brushing her scalp as his hair tickles her ears. Wrapped up in his body, perfectly warm against the cool night, she feels brave, limitless.

Rey draws his sizable palm over her breast, turning his thumb to brush her already agitated nipple. She leans back into him, thrusting her hips against nothing. “I will make sure you know exactly what I want,” she promises. Ben takes the hint, and gingerly palms her other breast, running his fingertips feather light over her dark nipples. The stimulation makes her wild, rubbing her behind against his cock, moaning so deep in her throat that it hurts. Her response boosts his confidence, and he lets out a breathless chuckle. 

“Aren’t you a wanton little thing. Fuck, I love you this way.”

One hand plucks at her riled tits. The other creeps over her sternum, over the subtly defined muscles of her belly, into the thicket between her thighs. He runs his fingers through her coarse hair wonderingly, following the trail of moisture to the seam of her outer lips. Growling, he cups her entire mound in his hand and lifts. Through the sounds she can’t seem to control, she manages to croak “Ben…so good.” The affirmation makes his cock jump, and she can feel a smear of fluid on her lower back.

“I love that your little cunt fits in my hand” he hisses in her ear, and feels her clench in response. His fingers tease her folds apart, alighting on her swollen inner lips and kneading them gently. She thrusts into his teasing touch. 

“Need you higher. On my clit,” she orders and he requires no further encouragement. He breathes raggedly as he traces a finger over the firm bead of her sex, up the swollen thread of flesh under her hood. She clenches mightily and sobs, sinking against him until she’s reasonably sure his hand between her legs is the only thing holding her up. Two fingers gently pinch on either side of her clit and pump her just as she pumped his cock. She’s never touched herself that way, and the sensation sends her reeling.

“That. Do exactly that, do not stop doing. That.”

He grunts acknowledgement, dipping into her pussy and using the moisture to stroke her faster. His other hand delicately pinches one tit, then the other. And, breathing in the smell of her hair, he whispers. “There is nothing I would not give you.”

Her orgasm hits her hard right then. In between waves of contraction and euphoria, she feels a slight pressure, reaches, and cries out as she lets loose a burst of hot liquid on Ben’s hand. Panting heavily, she reaches back for his face, holding on to his jaw for dear life. It has absolutely never felt like that. 

He hears the thought, and positively preens.

Opening her eyes and blinking at the surreal image of the moonlit meadow, Rey finds that her need has not so much abated as changed. Ben tenses before she even says it.

“I need you inside me.”

He doesn’t respond and his mind is turbulent. She turns in his arms and takes his straining erection in hand, ready as can be. He hisses through his teeth and almost pulls away. He grits out, “I won’t last.”

Rey can’t help but smile, because he really finds every possible excuse to worry. “Ben, I don’t need you to last. I just want to feel you.” She runs a finger over the seam of his lips, eyes sparkling. “Can you give that to me?”

Drawing her hands away from him slowly, she strides to the closest tree. Surprising even herself, she bends over for him, spreading her legs and baring her drenched pussy. She glances over her shoulder to see him frozen in terror. “Ben,” she calls softly, “please?” She feels him behind her, his hands winding through her hair, cock nudging wetly at her rear. She has no idea what has come over her.

“Fuck yes. Please, please give it to me?” 

Groaning, he moves to caress her rear, cursing at the wetness between her legs, gingerly working a fingertip between her inner folds. She can feel the head of him when he lines himself up, and cries his name as he sinks into her. Overcome, only half inside, he almost collapses onto her back, breathing hard, hanging on by a thread. He fills her up excruciatingly slowly, but the splitting size of him more than makes up for it. Immediately, she feels him pressing on the swollen patch of flesh just inside her. He starts to move in her, and she realizes that he’s crying, hot tears spattering on her back. He thrusts a few times, before convulsing so hard he pulls out of her as he comes, painting her thighs. 

Satisfied now that she has had him as close as possible, Rey stands and gathers Ben into her arms. She kisses the tears from his chin and cheeks, even as her own begin to fall. She spreads her cloak out for them, and crawls into the safety of his thighs around her hips, his arms around her shoulders. After months of sleepless nights, she finds she can barely stay awake. Ben is barely hanging on as well, but continues to kiss the crown of her head and murmur her name. The stars are winking out. Sunlight is starting to filter through the trees. Rey closes her eyes and dreams, however vaguely, of the future.

On one point, at least, she is resolved.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey beautiful Reylos! I've been into the ship for about 6 months now, and all the lovely Kinktober offerings inspired me to write fanfic for the first time in...a very long time. 
> 
> This ship is consuming my life pls help.


End file.
